


IN AN INSTANT

by slyther_sins



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Completed, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 13:08:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15001553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyther_sins/pseuds/slyther_sins
Summary: ━  TWO TEAMS. TWO CAPTAINS. AND ONE TOURNAMENT THAT DETERMINES IT ALL.❪ harry potter | draco malfoy ━alternate universe ❫❪original plot | groundbreaking-❫





	1. INTRODUCTION

** [ EPIGRAPH ] **

_❝you think you can beat us? aw, how cute.❞_

_❝oh, it's gonna be real hot when we slay you in the tournament then.❞_

**________**

**[ SUMMARY ]**

**HARRY WAS NEVER REALLY THE TYPE TO BACK DOWN FROM A CHALLENGE.**

**AND DRACO WELL, HE _WAS_  A CHALLENGE.**

**AND TO MAKE THINGS EVEN WORSE, THESE TWO SHORT-TEMPERED TEENS WERE BOTH CAPTAINS OF HOCKEY TEAMS THAT WERE NOTORIOUS FOR THEIR LONG-STANDING RIVALRY.**

**AFTER GROWING UP AND CONSTANTLY HEARING ABOUT ONE ANOTHER IN THEIR HOUSEHOLD(S) THROUGHOUT THEIR CHILDHOOD YEARS, THE CHANCES OF A SOMEWHAT CIVIL HOCKEY PRACTICE AND SEMI-POSSIBLE FRIENDSHIP QUICKLY GOES UP IN FLAMES DURING THE PRE-WEEK PRACTICE AT HOGWARTS ACADEMY; CAUSING DRACO TO LEAVE WITH A BLACK EYE AND BRUISED LIP, AND HARRY TO LEAVE WITH A DISLOCATED SHOULDER AND NUMEROUS SCRATCHES.**

**A WEEK PASSES, AND THE DAY OF THEIR CHAMPIONSHIP GAME FINALLY ARRIVES; BOTH TEAMS BLOOD-THIRSTY AS THE CROWD(S) CHEER LOUDER WITH EVERY PASSING SECOND. THE CAPTAINS STEP FOOT INTO THE CENTER, SHAKE HANDS, AND BRING OUT THEIR INFAMOUS LINES; THE AIR NOW FILLED WITH TENSION AS THEY AWAIT THEIR NEXT MOVE(S.)**

**AND THE MINUTE THE WHISTLE BLEW,**

**_ALL_  HELL BROKE LOOSE.**

**____________**

**[ CASTING ]**

JESSEY STEVENS |  **HARRY POTTER**

MATS VAN SNIPPENBERG |  **DRACO MALFOY**

 

 

HERIZEN GUARDIOLA |  **HERMIONE GRANGER**

BIBI SHARIPOVA | **PANSY PARKINSON**

ROBERTO SIPOS |  **RON WEASLEY**

 ADONIS BOSSO |  **BLAISE ZABINI**

 

 

LAURA GWYNETH BUTLER |  **GINNY WEASLEY**

BRYDEN JENKINS | **DAPHNE GREENGRASS**

 

FINLEY PRENTICE |  **THEODORE NOTT  
**

BILLY VANDENDOOREN |  **NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM  
**

 

 


	2. [ 00000 ] NEARLY CAUGHT

**THEY WERE AT HOME ALONE.** Yet, silence filled up the entire place. Not due to anything serious, merely the home phone ringing downstairs. And they’d be lying if they said they weren’t terrified in that moment. Laughter from upstairs trailed down the steps before thumping followed; a sleepy raven-haired boy appearing in the kitchen’s doorway, pausing to give himself a few seconds to comprehend the sound along with his situation.

He pressed the glowing ‘accept’ button as he waited for the caller to speak, adjusting his rim-wired glasses in the meanwhile, “Harry, love, is this you?”

A second set of footsteps echoed his in the background, an additional voice jumping into the conversation,  _“Hey, who’s that?”_

_“Parents, now leave!”_

“Nah, I think I’ll just stay.”

He glared over at his left, quickly covering the phone, “Fine. You’re allowed to stay, but if you dare screw up this phone call, I will–”

_“What, you’re gonna screw me up?”_ A scoff, _“You’ve already done so, babe. But you’re welcome to do it a second time.”_  The second figure laughed before coming to an abrupt stop, mumbling profanity as their toes were stomped on repeatedly.

“Hell-o?” Came from the phone.

Harry Potter yawned, rubbing furiously at his eyes, “Mum?”

“Oh, it is you!” His mother switched her phone between her ear and left shoulder, holding up an item she’d found interest in to show to her husband, James, who was busy creating mischief around the store with fellow costumers. “How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good. Things have been alright–school  and home wise.” Harry yawned, allowing his now visible green eyes to glance over to his left, letting a grin creep onto his face. “We’ve got a game against the Slytherins next–hey, stop that!”

His mother frowned on her side, “What was that?”

“Sorry, I meant to say we’ve got a game next week.” Harry paused, clutching the phone a bit tighter, “I miss you and dad loads.”

Lily smiled at her son’s words, “We miss you too, Harry. We’ll try and be back before the game. But if we don’t…” She passed the phone to her husband who was grinning like a mad-man, “be sure to dominate those vile serpents for us, eh, Harry?”

An unknown laugh could be heard in the background, ruffling following after, “Sure thing, dad.”  He laughed, raising an eyebrow as he stood up, “It’s quite easy to  _dominate_  a Slytherin once you know the trick–ow!”

“Sounds like you’re having  _fun_.” His dad commented, remembering back to his own 'fun days’ as a teenager long ago.

“Um…Ginny’s next to me.” He replied, though it came out more like a question.

“ _She_  is now?  _She’s_  been coming over a lot lately, hasn’t  _she_?”

Harry let out a nervous laugh, “Y-yeah, she thinks it’s fun to–ohhh…” Another laugh could be heard along with, “I’ve told you before, I’m on the phone with my parents!”

“But you look so adorable when you’re all flustered and you keep making the most hilarious faces! I honestly can’t resist, Harry!”

There was a sound of static with mid-breaks of yelling before the conversation resumed, “Sorry about that. I’m really not sure what’s wrong with…” A pause, “her.”

James started to get curious, “Are you sure it’s Ginny? I really didn’t recognize her voice and she usually wouldn’t do this during phone ca–”

A static, “Hey dad, did you hear that? I-I think I’m losing connection–”

_“Get your hand off the mic!”_

“No, I can hear you–and whoever else is there–quite perfectly–” His father said, starting to realize what was happening.

 Another static, “No, I’m not hearing well from your end.”

“Harry–”

“Sorry dad. Love you, and tell mum the same. Bye!” He rushed the last words out, hurrying to end the conversation. When it was confirmed, he shot a glare over at the smirking figure who was practically glowing from the moonlight shining on their body. The very first thing to pop in his head for him to yell out was,  _'We were nearly caught!’_ But instead, he asked,

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,  _'I wanna talk to my boyfriend’s parents but he’s stubborn sometimes so I guess I’ll have to butt my way into the conversation.’_ ”

“Was that sarcastic reply really necessary?”

“And was the previously asked question necessary considering I warned you before-hand?”

Harry blinked twice before sighing, “You know what? I don’t even care. I just know I’m tired, and I’m sleeping on you because you caused me to be like this.” He said, looping his arm around their waist as they began walking towards the staircase.

“And you wanna know something?” A smile, “ I’m absolutely fine with that.”

_“Your moods are always changing.”_

_“Okay, and?”_

_“It’s irritating!”_

_“Kinda like you when you snore sometimes?”_

_A sigh, “You’re impossible!”_

_“Not so, because I’m here with you.” A chuckle, “It’s a wonder how we ended up together.”_

Harry gave a final say before they disappeared down the hall, the two falling into a quick slumber the minute they hit the bed, 

_“And it’s a miracle that my parents didn’t recognize your voice.”_


	3. [ 0000 ] EXPLANATION

**IF HIS FRIENDS WEREN’T ALREADY RATTLED BY HIS ODD BEHAVIOR,** then they would surely be confused as to why their friend was wearing a thick scarf in both the blazing heat, and the humid atmosphere of Griffin High’s cafeteria.

It was during a mid-bite of his ham and cheese sandwich that Ron Weasley caught onto Harry’s act , the tall and laid-back redhead watching curiously his best friend (attempted to) discreetly join(ed) them at the lunch table the very next day, avoiding eye contact with everyone that came near.

“Harry?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Why are you wearing that?”

He looked up, his bright green eyes widening as he noticed the attention from the whole entire table, “Oh…this?”

He pointed at it, letting out a nervous laugh, “Yeah, um, I get cold easily.  _Surely_  you remembered, right?” He said, but his voice was muffled so badly by the fabric that soon the odd stares turned over into small laughs.

Exactly what he had hoped for.

But as he his eyes over went over to Ron, who still wore an expression of confusion and suspicion, it was clear his plan it hadn’t worked for  _everyone_ at the table.

But even so, from this, the atmosphere set back into its regular, and conversations soon resumed–everybody either talking about either their school lives, personal lives, something random that happened today, or what the did over the weekend; sharing rounds of laughter, of course. 

Eventually, Hermione joined them, her bag giving out a loud  _'thump!’_ as she plopped her bag down at her feet. Whatever seemed to be on her mind was erased the moment she looked over at her friend’s weird appearance, “Harry, you’re wearing–”

“–A scarf, yeah. Don’t you remember?” He lowered his voice as he tried to get her to understand the situation, “ I get  _cold_ easily.”

“ _No,”_ She interrupted with an eye-roll, (for she’d turned away, and hadn’t caught onto his words in the exact second),“ _That_  was caused from–”

Hermione paused, now catching onto to Harry (who was furiously telling her to stop with hand gestures) “–Falling asleep while doing your homework.” She saved, quick to make up the rest of the story,

“Remember? The pen exploded and covered a good bit of your neck. But since you left the air on,” She scoffed as she suppressed a laugh, “It  _wouldn’t_  be a surprise to see that your skin is now sensitive to certain temperatures, either.”  

She finished with a glance over at Harry (who mouthed 'thank you’ ) sat with a relieved expression.

Ron, who’d been watching the entire thing, shrugged, “Oh, okay.”

He’d turned back to face Dean, the two continuing their conversation about the lastest football match. And while the scene had faded from his mind, and he was already off the matter, it hadn’t been the same for his two best friends.

They knew he’d had a good mask for concealing his feelings, and they thought this was one of those times (although, it actually wasn’t.)

“Well, I’ll be back.” Ron announced as he stood from the table with his bag, exiting out the doors.

Their eyes widened and they turned toward each other, “Go and tell him!” Hermione urged as Harry stood up not long after, following him.

For a moment, he couldn’t find him, but it was on the second flight that he caught the trace of the familiar red hair, “Ron!” He called out, rushing down the steps.

“Yeah?”

“I…’ll tell you.” He got out, still a bit out of breath.

Ron still wasn’t catching on, “You’ll…tell me?”

“Yeah, uh,” Harry ran a hand through his hair as he gathered up his words, “Alrighty, so there’s this person…”

A nod, “Uh huh..”

“T-that I got a thing for…”

“Go on…”

“ButthingsarecurrentlyawkwardbetweenussoHermioneisreadingupandhelpingmewithit-wHEW!” Harry rushed out, his hands on his knees as he panted.

“Oh…” Ron shrugged, seemingly unfazed, “Okay.”

“Wait, what?” Harry stood up; he couldn’t tell if he was more angry at the fact that he friend brushed it off so easily, or that he’d wasted so much breath.

“Harry, mate, what you do isn’t  _any_  of my business. Not one single bit, and I won’t pry it out of you. If this, whatever it is, makes you happy, then it makes you happy. I mean, it’s nice to know how you are every now and then, but as long as whatever it is doesn’t cause you any harm, and I won’t have to hide a body,” They shared a laugh, “It’s fine.”

He paused, “ And…I don’t mean to sound mean but I wasn’t actually interested in finding out.”  He hurried to continue as he saw Harry’s face fall, “No seriously, I was literally just on my way down to the vending machine so this caught me _completely_  off guard.”

Ron’s face lit up as his thoughts began to veer off, “I heard they’ve got some new snacks, and one of them is a new chip flavor; which I hear is spicy as hell!” He snapped out of his thoughts as he remembered his best friend, “But since you’ve told me about it,”

Ron clamped a hand down on Harry’s shoulder with a smile, “Hopes it works out between you two, mate.”

Harry, who’d felt better after hearing this, nodded; giving him a smile, “Thanks.”

“No problem, I really do want the best for ya, Harry.” Ron turned and began to walk off, but stopped, “Oh, and you might wanna adjust that scarf of yours. I can see a few of those hickies.” And even with his cheeks burning bright red, Harry could still manage to look up from the floor and see Ron smirking at him.

“You were good at lunch, but it seems to have lowered once you chased me out here. But yeah, like I said, fix it before someone else sees it,"Filled with embarrassment, Harry could say nothing, so with a wave of his hand, Ron was off.

"Harry!” He stopped in the middle of the hall, and turned around at the sign of his name; waiting as he waited for Hermione to catch up, “Where have you been?” She questioned almost immediately, “I haven’t seen you since lunch.”

“I’m fine, I was actually just with Ron.”

“So,” She moved closer, “Did you tell him?”

“Yeah.”

She blinked, “And what were his thoughts?”

“He…actually didn’t care.” He began to laugh at Hermione’s perplexed expression, “He was moreover relaxed about it.”

“He didn’t?” Harry nodded. “So you mean he didn’t make any sort of reaction?”

“Well, he did smile and wished _us_  the best of luck, but other than that nope.” Harry let his answer stop right there, purposely forgetting to leave out the part of the vending machine for he wanted to see Hermione’s reaction.

“Huh…” She looked down at the tiled floor, pretending to count them (for a good minute or two.) “Well, uh, t-that’s…new for him.” She finally managed to get out as she looked back up, keeping her eyes straight ahead though, a small smile was visible.

“Ron’s chill about a lot of things, and he doesn’t really give me a hard time about anything…  _unless_ there’s a 99.8 percent chance I’m gonna get killed from it, or unless it’s insanely stupid; past the limit for him to join in on.” He chuckled as he thought back on past moments,

“Then, he’d smack me across the head.”

She snorted, leaning on him, “Idiots.”

“Yes, but  _your_ idiots, 'Mione.” He looked over at her, “And are you really surprised?”

“Yes, he usually has the emotional range of a teaspoon, but…huh, I guess things change.”

“No, he can be emotional. And you’ve known all along, you’re just seeing it in a new light now.” Harry winked, and proceeded to be given a hard shove by Hermione; snickering to himself as he flew (nearly to the) other side of the hall.

She rolled her eyes, scoffing, “Ronald and I?  _Please,_  Harold.”

“That’s not my name,” Harry grumbled as he rejoined her side.

“I know it’s not. But since you’ve annoyed me, and you dislike that name, we’re both in the same both of infuriation, aren’t we?” Hermione asked with a smirk, turning to meet Harry’s look of irritation.

“Hey, what’re you two talking about?” Ron asked as he joined them at their left, tossing them their favorite snacks from the vending machine.

“You, actually,” Harry replied, after they thanked him.

“Ah, what about me?” They stifled back their laughter as they watched him begin to get dramatic, “Is it my freckles you adore so much? My tendency to laugh really loud? Or are you two still caught up over the fact that I abandoned you both for a bag of spicy chips on the basement floor level?”

Harry was about to respond when a new weight was added onto his back, in addition to his bag. He grunted, “Ginny?”

“Yep!”

“You could’ve at least warned me first.” He got out in a strained breath, her laugh overshadowing his sounds of pain.

“I could’ve…” She shrugged, “But I didn’t.” She laughed as she heard him let out a sigh; stopping once something caught he eye, “Hey uh, give me a second.”

“For wh–?”

He grew quiet as she propped her elbows onto his shoulders, and her hands began to work on the scarf, “And there. Fixed it!” Ginny patted him on his shoulder before hopping off his back, “Oh, and you’re  _totally_ welcome for saving your ass right there.”

Harry frowned, but then his eyes grew wide as he caught onto what she was talking about, “Thanks, Gin. Ron told me to fix it earlier, but it slipped my mind.”

“Not a problem, and next time, could you tell them to chill out? They basically attacked your neck!” Harry felt another round of head enter the scarf at those words, “But with that blush on your cheeks, it’s clear you didn’t mind not one second of it, did you?”

“Sh-shut up!” He muttered as he shoved his hands into his pocket, really wishing that his hood could have the ability to fly onto his head during moments like this.

“Ah, I’ll leave you alone.” Ginny said to him,  realizing she was probably going a bit too far with it, “Plus, I’ve gotta head off to my next class, anyways. Bye 'Mione!” She said as waved (which was returned back with a 'Bye Gin!’)

“Later dorks!” She called out before jumping up and ruffling Ron and Harry’s hair, her sneakers squeaking against the floor, and her laughter ringing out as she ran past them up, and turned the corner.

“Ah, isn’t my sister just the _best_?” Ron muttered sarcastically, removing the brown beanie to fix his hair; his friends watching as his hair continued to grow wild at his attempts, before all three of the burst out into laughter.

“So, are you guys still on for tonight?” Harry questioned once their laughter died down, looking at his left and his right as he waited for their answers.

“Duh. Why would I miss my chance to totally slay you in a game of laser tag?” Ron asked him, looking at the boy in the middle of the trio.

“Ronald, you already know you’re gonna lose, so I don’t even know why you’d even make that statement. And to say you’re gonna slay Harry? Hah!” Hermione shot back in a playful tone, causing him to give a shake of his head. Harry laughed in agreement, before turning and high-fiving Hermione.

“All three of us know that it  _moi_ who will be the winner.” She continued, a smug look on her face as he watched Harry’s face fall.

“Wait, wha–?”

“Now 'Mione, instead of us being enemies, why don’t we team up and ge _t him_?” Ron threw out, pretending to not see the look of horror on Harry’s face.

“Brilliant idea, Ronald!” She threw her hand around Harry’s back to meet Ron’s, the two sealing the deal.

“No, guys, we didn’t–”

“We best be off-

”-see you tonight, Harry!“

Without giving him another second to protest, they headed for the stairs.

"Wait!” They heard him call out, before stopping and turning back around.

Harry drew in a breath before asking, “Are we meeting there or all we riding together?”

Ron and Hermione looked at one another, before Hermione spoke up, “Oh, I’ll be driving us.”

“In your car or–?”

“In my baby-blue truck, of course!”

“Oh, okay.” They turned off, but Ron called out over his shoulder, “Hey, just because we’re riding in the same car, that doesn’t mean we’re gonna sit there, and spare you when the first rounds starts, Harry!”

Harry could hear his friends’ laughter even after he let out an over-dramatic groan. He sighed again, a smile making its way onto his face as he made his way up the steps, and turned off in the opposite direction; excited for the upcoming night.


	4. [ 000 ] FIFTY SHADES OF RED

**IN THE EARLY HOURS OF DAWN, A TALL TEEN WITH JET-BLACK HAIR AND ROUND GLASSES HOPPED OUT OF THE BABY BLUE TRUCK THAT HAD JUST PULLED INTO THE POTTER RESIDENCE DRIVEWAY.**  Quick to get inside, he stumbled upstairs; his bright green eyes still glazed over and his lips still an intense shade of candy apple red.

After several minutes of fumbling with his door, he mind eased as he saw the familiar shades of crimson red that decorated his room; leaning against it as he continued to catch his breath even as the mere memory of the unspeakable he’d done hours earlier, following the tease he’d received moments before he stepped foot into the house.

He collapsed onto his bed, letting out a loud groan as he realized he’d just sat on his hockey bag; the stick nearly impaling him right then and there. He slowly eased off onto the other side, and minutes after laying in bed and staring up at the darkened ceiling, he pulled out his phone and let his fingers dash across the screen;

**_\- That was a good play. -_ **

_\- Well, I try my best during every game we have, love.-_

**_\- We should have another go. -_ **

_-When?-_

**_\- Soon. -_ **

_\- You call it, Captain -_

Harry laughed softly laughed to himself, stopping as he heard the message notification ding again,

_-Stop laughing and look outside.-_

Tucking his phone away, he slowly stood, trembling slightly, and made his way to the (recently opened) window; a small smile appearing once he saw the face staring up at him. “What are you doing here?” Harry asked, a laugh following after as he noticed their frame hanging awkwardly from the outer sill as they struggled to stay up.

“Aw, just making sure my lovely boyfriend made it back home safe…” A look appeared across their face, “ _And_ to also make sure my territory was rightfully marked. Your arse still hurting, yeah?”

Harry blushed madly, shifting his weight over to his other foot as he looked down, “Shut up!”

“Verified.” A glance over Harry’s shoulder and the figure’s eyes widened with panic, hurrying to scramble down.

“Wait, where are you going?!”

“Your parents are awake and are about to open the door; I don’t want us to get caught.” They planted a quick kiss on his lips, giving them a reassuring smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” And with that, they let go and jumped down; running towards the road.

Moments later, the door opened and Harry felt the presence of his parents standing behind him, but was unfazed.

“What are you doing up at a time like this, Harry?” His mother questioned.

“Oh, you know,” He shrugged, “Just watching the sun rise." 

"You’ve never done it before.” His father chimed, pushing the subject further.

“Well, today seemed different. Like I was meant to.” He paused, walking back towards it, “I mean, just look at the beautiful shades. Yellow, purple, orange, pink…”

And though those were the words he’d said, his parents could see his gaze locked on the black car driving off.  As their eyes met, Lily and James Potter shared a knowing look and similar smirk as the littered (and numerous amounts) of hickeys across their son’s neck, ears, collarbone came into view.

“All I see is fifty shades of red." 

James casually threw out, his wife struggling to contain her laughter as they watched Harry’s eyes widen; kicking at a sock on the floor as his unruly black hair covered the newly forming blush on his cheeks.

"Um, that’s a weird color to be seeing at this time.”

“I know…which is why I’m gonna act like I didn’t see it,” James replied, turning to leave.

“Wait, dad–”

“Nope, it is too early for this. And I mean way too early. We’ll talk after I have a few cups of coffee…” James said from the doorway, going on to whisper the last part to himself, “Or butterbeer, I-I don’t know." 

"But dad–!” Harry tried one last time, laughter soon overtaking all three residents of the Potter home.

_“I’m going back to bed, night son!”_ James called back down the hall through fits of laughter, the door closing not a second later. The minute his mother left, he collapsed onto the bed; covering his (scarlet-red) face with his pillow. His phone dinged not a moment later, 

_-'Did you get caught?’ -_

_**\- 'If you mean 'did your parents pick on you about the several hickeys were left after our session?’ then yes, i got caught.’  -_- -** _

_\- 'aww :( ’ -_

But even with that response, Harry knew, oh, yes, he knew the sender of the message was doubled over and laughing their arse off. Hell, he could practically hear it right now! And with that, he huffed and clicked the phone off; falling into an uncomfortable slumber as his mind replayed everything, and he wondered what tomorrow had in store for him.


	5. [ 00 ] THE PACT

**AROUND THE LATE HOURS OF EVENING, THERE WAS A KNOCK ON THE DOOR OF THE POTTER RESIDENCE.**

“Harry, dear, could you get the door for our guests?” Lily Potter, questioned as she quickly trailed back upstairs for the hundredth time in the last hour; her red hair whipping behind her as it was clear she was far too busy at the moment to do so herself.

The said person nodded, tucked his phone into his pocket, and got out of at his seat at the kitchen island; spearing a quick glance in approval of his outfit that consisted of jeans, and a slightly baggy -t with the short sleeves rolled in. He shrugged and went to open the door; putting on his best manners as he’d always done when they arrived.

“Hello Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry greeted the tall, blue-eyed and slimmed down older woman before giving her a gentle hug, smiling at her familiar scent of lavender, and allowing her to come inside. “And hello–” He stopped, and his face fell mid-sentence upon seeing the towering blond figure that was propped against the doorway, glaring at smirk at his oh-so-proper manners.

“Oh, it’s  _you._ ”

“Now, now, that’s no way to treat your  _guest_ , Potter.” Draco Malfoy snickered before shoving past Harry roughly, letting himself into the home. Harry sent daggers to the back of his head as he shut the door behind him, grumbling underneath his breath before walking past him and returning the shove.

“Harry, be sure to keep Draco entertained while he’s here.” Mrs. Potter called out over her shoulder before continuing her previous conversation and entering the living room, Mrs. Malfoy right by her side.

“Alright, will do, mom…” Harry faked a smile, and waited until they turned the corner before he pulled Draco aside, “What’re you doing here?!” He hissed quietly, tightening the grip on the taller boy’s arm.

This earned him an eye roll, “Our moms are friends if you’ve forgotten.” He sighed, shaking his head, “I honestly don’t know why she just dragged me along last minute. I guess they want us to bond, to have a friendship somewhat similar to their’s so I guess we can all hang out more…” He paused, “Or something like that.”

“Well, we’d all actually hang out more if it wasn’t for our  _rivalry_ ,” Harry replied, letting go of him, and heading to the fridge for a drink.

“Rivalry?” Draco snickered, leaning back against the marble counter, his hands on the counter, “Can’t believe we  _still_  use that story.”

“We  _have_  to.” Retorted the green-eyed boy from within the depths of the refrigerator.

“No, we  _don’t._ ”

“I beg to differ,” Harry replied, shutting the fridge to face him; cracking open a soda–taking a few sips before placing it in front of his previous seat.

“That isn’t the only thing you  _beg_  for.” Draco shot back, smirking at the other boy’s newly flushed face.

“And this isn’t the only time you’ve been propped back on your hands, being  _hard_  to handle,” Harry said, placing one hand on either side of the counter as he closed in on the tall blond; staring up.

Silence filled the space as glares were shared, neither blinking. That was before Draco cracked a goofy grin, and Harry began laughing; his head dropping down as his shoulders continued to bounce, “Idiot.”

“Yes, but yours.”

“Yeah? Prove it.” The taller boy challenged before Harry pulled him by the front of his shirt; their lips meeting soon after. He immediately smiled into the kiss, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this.” He murmured, pulling back slightly.

“You can have more,” Harry whispered back, wrapping his arms around his neck, “We just can’t let our parents find out.”

“Parents find out what?” Lily questioned the moment she stepped foot in the kitchen. The two boys froze in their place, their eyes wide as they tried to come up with a lie; silently gesturing each other to answer. (But unknown to them, Mrs. Potter wasn’t even paying attention to them; she was, instead, on the hunt for an item. When she realized it wasn’t there, she said, with her back still facing them, “Oh, don’t worry about it,” before leaving the room; disappearing down the hall.)

The minute her footsteps departed, Harry let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and Draco’s tense body relaxed; both of them wearing a look of relief. “That… was close.”

Draco agreed, “Almost too close.” Harry nodded and leaned forward when Draco suddenly pulled back; “Maybe that’s a sign.”

“A sign of what?” He stepped back, “No, no. A sign to  _do_  what?”

“A sign to separate for a bit, to get space.”

“Do you mean–”

“No, no, that is the  _last_ thing on my mind,” He chuckled, “I mean, distance ourselves a bit more.” He sighed once he realized Harry still wasn’t following, “The more time we have from one another, the least likely we’ll get caught in situations like this. That way when we meet up in secret..”

Their fingers intertwined, and the smaller boy was pulled closer; the two sharing a small smile before his eyes grew wide and heat began spreading rapidly throughout his body as the blond whispered the next lines.

Harry stood there, a bit flustered as he tried to recover. “But weren’t you just the one saying how much you missed our  _small kisses?_ ” Harry asked in a teasing tone, noticing how quiet (and how red) the other boy had got upon hearing this, “Yeah, gotcha there.” He went on, turning his back; thinking he’d already won the argument.

“I may have said that,” Draco started, still thinking up his next words, “but, I can live without them for a while.” He finished, unsure of himself.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “Oh, so you can?” He asked, a bit skeptical as he stared at his boyfriend.

“Yeah…I can.”

“Well, that’s great, because I can live without your hugs…” He hesitated, “For a while.”

“Well, I can live without your stupid jokes.”

“So?  _I_  can live without your morning voice over the phone.”

“ _I_ can live without seeing your bed hair.”

“And  _I_  can live without your d–”

“– _u_ mb puns”

“– _a_ mn laugh.”

The said at the same time, scoffing at one another’s attempt to save the sentence.

“Fine then, let’s make a pact,” Draco announced, staring down at Harry,

“ We have to keep away from one another until after the championship game. No talking, texting, midnight trips to one’s house, or even a casual meetup. We basically ignore one another…that is, something is called for and we’re involved in it. The overall rule is to not do any of the stuff we do behind closed doors. Not even a quick peck. The  _winner_ decides what the _loser_ has to do next.” Draco finished with a weird smile on his face.

“Deal?” He held out his hand, waiting.

Harry stared at it momentarily before looking back up, not backing down as he took his hand into his, “Deal.”

And with that, the pact began.

_____________

-The next few hours for the teen boys consisted of eating snacks, silent boasting, and leering. They continued to glare at one another from across the room, even at the sound of their mothers entering; chatting happily about something.

“Goodbye, Lily.”

“It’s always great to have you over here, Cissy.” She sighed a bit, “With the sudden move back in with James and Harry into a new town, I’ve felt completely out of place but you really helped me out a lot.” She placed her hand over the other woman’s, “Thank you again.”

“Oh, of course.” The two older women went in for a hug and glanced over at their sons the minute they pulled back.

“It’s such a shame the boys don’t get along,” Lily whispered.

Narcissa exhaled in reply, shaking her head, “Indeed it is.”

They parted, Lily staying back in the kitchen while Draco and his mother went for the door; Harry trailing behind.

“ Bye dear.” She said, this time to Harry.

“Bye Mrs. Malfoy, it was nice seeing you again.”

“You too, dear.” They ended their conversation with a hug, and Harry held the door open for her; letting her through. When the thought of Draco came up, he turned and had seen him using his manners as well, and telling his mother bye. Lily released him and the air seemed to become tense as he appeared next to Harry, continuing to walk past him.

Halfway out the door, Draco stopped and looked back at him, “Catch you later, Potter.”

Harry drew in a breath, hoping the wrong answer didn’t come out, “Catch you later, Malfoy.”

The two shared a small smile before he went down the steps, and Harry closed the door. “So you two are closer?” His mother asked as she noticed the smile (still) on his face.

“Um…yeah. W-we’re a bit closer now.”

“Oh, well, that’s great to hear,” She said, trapping him in a small hug. She released him, and patted his back, “You can go back upstairs now, I know you’d much be up there in comfortable clothes rather than down here, and in formal-like clothes.”

Harry grinned, “Thank mom!” He grabbed his phone and soda, rushing back upstairs into the retreat of his room.

 Lily retreated back to her own part of the house, giving a shake of her head as she let out a little laugh towards her son’s behavior. 

Once inside his room, Harry kicked off his shoes and reached for the remote, flipping the TV on as he flopped back onto his crimson-sheeted bed. He reached over to his left into his spare bag, fishing out a huge bag of nacho Doritos; and accidentally scooting his phone to the edge of the bed. He picked it up and unlocked it, scrolling until he went to one specific name in his contact list. 

_'Draco.’_

He quickly began to type, changing the name to  _'Malfoy’,_ and adding under the ’ _blocked'_ list. Harry was  _not_ gonna take his chances with this.

But then a smile appeared as the idea came that Draco probably hadn’t thought of the same solution. He shook his head before tossing the phone back at his side, peeling open the bag.

 "Oh, I am so gonna win this.“ He said to himself, popping in a chip as he turned his attention onto the TV; under the impression that he’d already won. 

( But unknown to him, those same words were muttered underneath Draco’s breath as he followed the same actions and had the same thoughts; not even a minute after the pact had been formed.)

 Now the only thing that’ll proclaim the true winner of the pact, is their various and effective methods they have of avoidance.


	6. [ 1 ] WORD TO THE FELLOW

**THEIR STICKS SLAPPING AGAINST THE ICE RINK COULD BE HEARD FROM THE LUNCHROOM.** The Gryffindors were training, and they were training hard. With their national championship game against their long-time rivals, the (Sinuous) Slytherins, nearing and the risks higher than ever, it was sure a hell of a reason to spend every second from the brink of dawn working their arses off; not returning home until after midnight, sweat literally dripping down their foreheads.

While one group ran up and down the bleachers, another stretched along the floor while the third continued to race up and down the rink; all moving in sync. The captain, Harry Potter, threw constant glances around the room at each group as he multi-tasked leading the group on the ice.

While he was overall nice guy, whenever he saw potential within you to do better than your showing performance, he pushed you to your limits (which is why some people walking on the other side of the door heard him yelling out things such as;

 'C'mon Neville, get lower bend those knees!' 

'Ginny, you’re quicker than that; longer glides, harder strides. Same goes for you too, Dean. You two try out those crossovers. ’

'Mione, you know you can swing harder; I’ve seen that left hook in action.’

'Fred and George, I like those hits but I want their teeth to shake whenever they feel your impact; harder checks. Flick those wrists and put more force into your shoulders. Count those strides as well, we don’t want charging calls out there.’

There was another long round before the whistle sounded, "Alright, guys, great warm-up." 

A huge sigh and cheer was shared amongst the team as they either got a water or gatorade or something of the sort; downing it quickly before meeting up with their friends on the bleachers–collapsing with laughs as they commented on one another’s current appearance.

However, they stopped the moment they heard yelling in the distance,

'Emmy, be quiet or they’ll heard you!’

'You’re the one yelling, Ella!’

Grumbling was heard before two brown-eyed and brunette twins–one a boy, the other a girl–looking in their early middle school years–ran into the gym; their faces flushed from running, "Harry Potter?”

“That’d be me.” He said, standing up and walking towards them.

“T-this is for you.” The girl squeaked, handing him and envelope. 

“Why thank you both.” Harry said, smiling at the both of them; causing them to blush furiously before nodding and scurrying away–excitedly talking as they left. And it wasn’t hard to tell why; Harry was a tall fellow but he had good looks–with his green-eyes (hidden behind rimmed-glasses) complimenting his butterscotch complexion and his award-winning smile, it wasn’t hard to see why would get flustered so easily around him.

That, and he had the ability to go from nice guy to ankle-breaker in seconds.

“Aye Harry, what’s that you’ve got?” Neville called over suddenly, he being the only person to see it.

“It’s uh…” Harry opened up the envelope and read the letter, his mood changing all at once, “Just great.” He muttered, rolling his eyes.

“What’s it say?” Ron asked, everyone’s attention suddenly going over to the captain.

“That we’ve got to practice with the Slytherins,” He looked up, “A pre-week practice is called for.” A series of disagreeing yells were heard, refusing to believe his words.

“You’ve  _got_  to be kidding.” Fred called out, being over-dramatic as he and George, his twin, began to throw child-like tantrums (obviously, to lighten to tense mood.)

Harry joined in on the laughter, soon shaking his head with a sigh, “Nope. Even  _I_  wouldn’t joke about this.” He began to gather his bag and finished just as he heard the bus pull up. He walked over to the drink rack and brought it over to the door; quickly propping it open.

“Harry, please don’t make us go.” George pleaded in a child-like manner as he watched the younger teen go out the door, “And please give us back the drinks, man.” This caused another series of laughter.

Harry popped his head back into the door frame, grinning as his hair fell over his face, “Sorry Georgie, Dumbledore’s orders.” He winked before disappearing again; letting out a laugh as he heard what sounded like zombies and stuff piling up inside before there was a line of Gryffindors behind him.

When the door had been carefully locked, and the bus was filled with the team members (who were munching about on snacks) they took off down the road–heading straight for the renowned and every kid’s dream school: 

Hogwarts Academy for the Profoundly Gifted.


	7. [ 2 ] POP, SNAP, CRACKLE, PAIN!

**IF DUMBLEDORE THOUGHT THE TWO CAPTAINS WOULD BE CIVIL WITH ONE ANOTHER,** then he’d be immensely wrong. Nearly the second they saw one another, things had started to go awry. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the infamous Potter and his team of Gryffindorks.” The tall blond drawled, his team following behind as they skated towards the edge of the rink; looking up at the bleachers at their rivals.

“And if it isn’t Malfoy…” Harry spoke in the same manner, trailing off.

There was a pause before Draco spoke up, “You forgot the Slytherins, genius.”

Harry chuckled, “Sorry, I didn’t consider them as a team.”

“Funny you say that considering the Gryffindors weren’t even  _proclaimed_  as an actual hockey team up until the recent years.”  Grinding his teeth, Harry held back the line of curses that were about to leak out.

“All that won’t matter when we beat you at the championship game next week.”

“You think you can beat us?” Draco gave a fond smile, the look in his eyes sending different message, “ Aw, how  _cute._ ”

  “Oh, it’s gonna be  _real_ hot when we slay you in the tournament, then.” Harry retorted in a menacing voice, sending daggers as he began walking down the bleachers, only to be stopped and held back Hermione; knowing what he had in mind.

“Instead of all this talk, how about we  _actually_ settle this out on the floor?” She barged in (as in attempt to stop their pointless arguing) her tone revealing irritation; her words gathering the support of many.

“Best idea I’ve heard all day, Granger.” Pansy Parkinson replied, the two sharing a slight smile before everyone separated and got dressed; heading back onto the rink to (unexpectedly) find the overall referee, Madam Hooch, waiting for them there; causing them all to raise and eyebrow in questioning of her intent there.

“Everyone, pair up with your match on the opposing team. We’re gonna have a few laps around the rink and then we’ll start practice. I’ll only be here for the warm-ups because you are all grown enough to know how practices work. We’re gonna keep this short and simple unless one of you goof off. Then, everyone will have to pay. And I’m sure you don’t want that considering I’m in charge.”

She warned, looking everyone in the eye (causing them to all look down for her strong gaze seemed to pierce their souls) “Since we’re all clear and my words have been understood…” She stood back onto the first bleacher seat and pulled out her whistle,

“Begin!” She yelled out, the small instrument letting out a shrill scream;  signaling the start of the the first lap.

_________

**“TIME!"**  Harry called out for the third time in the last hour, grumbling angrily as he moved off ice. Draco had been playing foul moves against him during practice and there was only a certain amount of his bullshit Harry could handle.

"Aw, c'mon Potter! Come back out onto the rink, I know practice isn’t that hard." 

"Practice isn’t hard,” Harry began, getting a cup of water, “You’re just fouling too much.” He finished, eyeing him as he chugged down his water; disposing his cup before heading back down.

“Fouling? Me? Hilarious! Now get back out here,” Draco held up his stick and swung at air, “ I meant to aim for your knees last time, but you moved out the way.”

“Those were _clear_ fouls!” Harry screeched, getting more frustrated by the second, “Oh, I forgot, you don’t know the rules since your damn father had to pay for you to be on the team!” He spat, moving closer, “That’s why you’re such a little priss, everything is bought for you.” He scoffed, “ I bet you fall out at the thought of actually working for something. You have no true talent except at being a stuck up brat.”

“At least my father is in my life and is not constantly away with 'business trips’ or so he calls them; at least  _he_ bothers to stay home instead of always running off at the snap of the fingers of his 'boss.’ By the way, how’s life at home, Potter? Still getting shoved into the downstairs closet by Dudley?” Draco mocked, 

“You’re gonna kept at it and–”

“What? What are you gonna do about it, huh?!” Draco yelled as he moved closer, waiting for Harry’s reaction. But Harry kept cool, and began skating back onto his side of the ice; trying his best to calm down though he was clenching his fists, “Nothing, that’s what. I knew it! You’re weak, just like your dear old fa–”

Harry let out a yell before turning around throwing out his fist, knocking Draco down with a power jab. There was a moment of silence before Draco jumped up and tackled Harry down; the two scrapping it out on the rice. As their teammates rushed to break the two apart, their blows could be heard, echoing about the rink.

By the time they were pulled apart, they were breathing heavy; both looking like a mess with their yanked hair and bruised-filled bodies as they continued to glare at one another (despite the excruciating pain coursing throughout their veins.) Harry, with his dislocated shoulder and scratches littered about his body–and Draco with his bruised lip and (a currently forming) black eye.

“I…think that’s enough of practice,” Blaise spoke up after sometime, looking over at Ron; knowing more damage could’ve been done had the two had more time. “We’ll just leave things here. They don’t have to know, this arena–thankfully but oddly–doesn’t have cameras so they won’t see anything that just happened.”

Ron nodded, looking back and forth at both teams, “If Dumbledore asks, we did the full hours of the required practice. And everything went pretty well. If not, we’ll both be in a shitload of trouble, alright?”

The room was quiet before Blaise pointed something out (with an eye-roll, of course), “There’s no point in being stubborn about it, we all know he’s right. Just… do us a favor and agree on it already so we can leave, I know neither one of us wants to stay here longer than necessary, okay?”

So after a moment of obvious hesitation, there were mutters of agreement before the two co-captains shook hands and both teams left the academy; dragging their injured and angered captains back to their schools.


	8. [ 3 ] ANGER MANAGEMENT

**HIS SKATES SCRAPED THE ICE, SENDING UP VIOLENT SHOWERS OF SNOW AS HE FORCED HIMSELF TO CALM DOWN.** It had been a day Harry’s altercation with Draco at pre-game practice, but his anger only seemed to increase as each minute passed. He was zoned out as he skated around but after hearing the dissatisfied grunts and catching glares of his fellow teammates from their unexpected (and unpleasant) mini blizzard, Harry went up to the bleachers and busied himself with his phone.

His plan ultimately failed for he huffed and threw his phone into his bag not even five minutes later, heading into the training room ( this being sure sign he’d just finished up yet another heated argument through text. with who? none of his teammates knew.)

By the time Neville had gotten into the room, he could see that Harry was fully focused on destroying the punching bag. “Harry?”

He didn’t respond.

“Harry talk to me.” Neville scratched the side of his nose where a silver nose piercing gleamed as he began to gather his words, feeling a bit awkward for this was the first time they’d ever had this sort of talk. 

“I know you’re still pissed about Malfoy.” He paused, running a hand through his hair, “He didn’t have the right to say any of that, I-I know.” He dared a glance over, “ But now you’re taking it out on us. You’ve  _never_ done that before no matter _how_ angry you got.” He sighed, noticing the way he tensed upon bringing up the other boy’s name, “This is something deeper between you two, isn’t it?" 

A grunt, "Maybe.”

Neville leaned against the door-frame, a couple of the blond flecks in his dark brown hair falling down from its style as he looked at his friend with pity, “You  _can’t_  let him get to you this like, Harry.”

“I know but–fuck!” Harry screamed out, tears threatening to spill once again as he threw another punch at the bag. “He just irritates me so damn much and all I wanna do his snap his little head off!”

“Harry, would you rather swing at Malfoy and have to watch him from the sidelines because you were thrown out of the game, or would you rather have an up-close view of him right before you slaughter him in the game? Huh?” The taller boy’s question was barely heard over the blows into the punching back.

Harry backed up, and proceeded to walk off, only to be shoved back into the wall, “Tell me!”

Harry looked up, his eyes cold. He stared back before shoving roughly past Neville (causing him to stumble a bit) before swinging the door back; the loud echo causing everyone to shut up and look at him in fear. His eyes fell onto the ice in front of him; his voice low as he spoke,

 "Bring me my stick, and round everyone up.“

Neville nodded and moved past him, all eyes following him with curiosity.

 "Did you get him back?” Ron asked the moment he got in front of them, looking over his best friend as he hesitantly got up. Neville gave him a look of uncertainty as he picked up Harry’s stick, bringing everyone out onto the rink.

Harry took his stick and spun it around as he spoke,

 "Hell yeah, he got him back.“ 

He abruptly stopped, watching them with an intense gaze; his tone serious, "Now instead of sitting around, how’s about we get ourselves ready to play the best damn championship game these townsfolk have  ever seen?”

Ron glanced over at a grinning Neville who held his fist out, 

“Am I good or  _what_?" 

Ron chuckled and bumped back before joining in on the group circled around their captain; their expressions wild as they took in his every word. 

This was going to be, by far, one of the wildest games they’ve ever played.


	9. [ 4 ] REVELATION

**AND WHILE NEVILLE’S PREVIOUS WORDS HAD SAVED HARRY FROM BEING SUSPENDED FROM THE UPCOMING GAME,** it hadn’t saved the team from several immensely excruciating work-outs.

"Harry? C-can we take a break now? We…we’re tired.” Hermione panted some two hours later, holding onto Ginny for support as she struggled to keep her body from collapsing from the intense strain on it.

And those words were shocking to the ears of anyone who heard considering the in-shape Gryffindors were rarely ever  _actually_ tired from their workouts (and considering Hermione ran at least 10 miles on a daily morning basis.)

“What’re you talking about, Mione, we’re doing just fine.” Harry said nonchalantly as he brushed off the plea simply with the turn of his back; his teammates gaping at him with incredulous looks.

Neville scoffed, his voice shaky, “We’re bloody exhausted! Drained!" 

A scan across the room proved this to be right, everyone bent over with their hands on their knees or on the verge of falling out on the ice right then and there. Harry sighed upon this sight, "Guys, this is the championship and we’ve got rough competition; you might take hits that’ll hurt worse than these cramps.”

“Harry, if this about Malfoy–” Ron warned, stepping closer with a stern look.

“This isn’t about him!” He snapped, dropping his stick, “This is so much bigger than him, d-don’t you get it?!” Harry yelled, on the verge of tears from how frustrated he was; his voice echoing off the walls of the now silent room. He soon noticed this and forced himself to calm down, taking in deep breaths, 

“I–This is our last year here, guys. We’re seniors.” He let out a little laugh, “After this, we’ll lose contact and go onto college; never seeing nor speaking to one another ever again. We won’t get this again unless one of use strikes lucky on a NHL contract deal in the future.” He looked around the room, “We’ve been together since sixth and seventh grade, we’ve been a family since then.” He went to each person, talking back on his first impressions and memories, “I remember all of you.”

“How a  _bossy_  little Hermione waltzed in with her bushy hair and buck teeth, demanding and earning the role of the captain; always navigating and saving poor shots at the goal. How an agile Ginny with an attitude could make a slap-shot faster than you could shoot a bullet. How an usually tall Ron–at the time–would always lose his temper out on the rink whenever he was called out on a foul but kept it cool and civil around the officials and opposing teams. ”

“How two _goofy_  twins bounced into the room, making everyone laugh within five seconds of stepping in; how they impressed whenever they raged out together on the rink. How Angelina’s braids popped me every single time in my face and how many times I’d leave with red marks on my face; yet her hard hits would send the puck flying overhead onto the other side of the rink. How a once-shy Neville evolved into a hulk-machine within weeks of joining.”

“And–” Harry paused, looking down, “Man, uh, can someone take over my speech? You all know I hate getting emotional.” The group chuckled and embraced their captain in a hug; surrounding him afterwords.

“We’re gonna go out there and we’re gonna win this game, Harry.” Neville turned and pointed at him, “ We’re gonna win it for you.” The team began agreeing, but Harry stopped them; shaking his head,

“No… not for me. D-don’t do it for me.” He looked up, staring at everyone, “Do it for yourself. Do it for us. But most importantly, do it for Gryffin High.”

Harry broke out into a grin the minute they began cheering; their voices echoing against the wall. “But um, can we wait a bit?” All heads turned to face Fred, his expression quite hilarious-looking.

“Yeah, our bodies still need to heal.” George finished, causing them to chuckle. And when it was clear they didn’t have the current strength to make it up the bleachers, they all laid sprawled out on the ice rink; the hours passing by as they joked around and back on their starter years.

 An unusual way for the Gryffindors to end a day.


	10. [ 5 ] LET THE GAME BEGIN

**GAME DAY ARRIVED QUICKER THAN EXPECTED.** The minute they walked through the door, the were met with over-whelming support from their school and district. Balloons, gifts and hugs were given that morning before they left and loaded the bus; being sent off with cheers of 'good luck!’

Now, with just two hours before the official starting, they kept themselves in the locker-room; reviewing their plays and plans one last time–alongside, getting out last minute jitters, replacing them with inner excitement and getting themselves in the mindset for when they play.

Suddenly, with fifteen minutes before the game, Oliver Wood–their coach–walked into the locker room at last; everyone turning to face him; “So this is it. This our very last game.” Some began looking down, but he continued; scratching the back of his neck, 

“ I just want you all to know that it’s been an absolute privilege to be your coach for the past years. As each year goes on, you’ve improved by a hundred. You give it your all, and whenever you’ve lost, you came back, better than ever. You’ve worked hard to get where you are today, you were meant–no,  _born-_ -for hockey." 

He looked at each on of them in the eye, "Don’t let a fuckin’ soul out there tell you that you weren’t. I’ve seen you play, I’ve seen the passion–the  _fire_ in your eyes. Tonight,  _you_ are the greatest.  _You_ will be the ones to win. And I wouldn’t have wanted to coach any other team, even if I had the chance.” He smiled in what seemed like a million years, “Anything could happen out there, so play hard, and play until the very last second, got it? ”

They all nodded, grinning with tears forming in their eyes. He turned to Harry, “Do you have any final words, captain?”

He nodded and stood up, “Six years is how long we’ve been together. Six years is how long we’ve been a team. So in other words…I don’t give a  _damn_ what the scoreboard says in the end, we’ll always be winners in my book. Why? Because you gave it your all. But despite that, I want you to work your asses off like this is the last thing you do on this earth. I want you to be practically  _begging_  to come off that ice because you’ve ran yourself rugged.” He pointed towards the door, “Do you see that crowd out there, dressed in our colors? They  _believe_  in us, and I want you to do so as well.”

“Let  _this_ be the game they still talk about decades later. Let  _this_ be the game you tell your kids about. Let  _this_  be the game this town won’t ever forget! But still,” He sighed,“ if there’s a chance we don’t win, just know I’m still proud of all your hard work leading up to now, and even after.” His eyes went about the room, his words from the heart, “It has been an incredible honor to be a part of these team, and bond with you guys.”

Some tears were shed and smiles were shared about the room before everyone went in for a hug; doing a silent prayer as well–their coach and captain in the center. 

Harry pulled back, a grin on his face, “Who are we?”

_“The Golden Gryffindors!”_

“And what are we gonna go out there and do?!” He screamed, beginning to feel the adrenaline course through his veins in excitement.

_A long and screeching, “Win!”  followed after and they_ formed into another circle; throwing there hands in the center–screaming like maniacs. They gathered their things and went upstairs, traveling down the darkened hall.

They opened the (final) door and immediately, they heard music.

A trumpet was heard loud and clear throughout the arena and it was a sound the Gryffindors knew belonged to their theme song. They looked at one another, smiling as they looked up at the bleachers; only to be greeted with passionate fans who proceeded to yell out their names, hold up posters, and cheer them on–wearing their team’s official colors (on their face and body) with pride.

Hermione, being the goalie, was the first step out onto the ice; and after getting into order, the rest followed–throwing up smiles and waves at the fans overhead. With forty minutes before the game, as they were waiting for everyone to be present, both teams skated around the rink as they proceeded on with pre-game warm-ups; the lights moving about them.

 From the laughter and constant chatter, you wouldn’t have thought these were rivals out on the ice. 

As Harry rounded a corner, he saw a figure catching up beside him; a familiar Romanian accent sounding, “The Gryffindors look  _pretty_ badass, Potter. Nice job. I especially like Granger’s short flow, fits her and her temper.”

“Eh well, your team cleaned up nicely as well, I’ll admit, I’m a bit intimidated.” He shrugged and casually added, “Makes me wanna join the dark side just for a bit, ya know?” Harry glanced over at Draco and the two shared a laugh before every seat in the arena was filled, both teams were announced and the two captains were called towards the referee. 

Harry and Draco stepped towards the center (the optical illusion causing their movements to look like the ground was crumbling underneath with every stride) into the single spotlight; “Alright you two, shake hands.”

Draco leaned forward, eyeing Harry with a smirk as he took his hand, 

“Scared Potter?”

Harry chuckled, squeezing his hand tighter as he now stood barely a centimeter away, his expression equally intimidating, 

“You wish.”

Green bore into gray before the referee moved them back and stood at the side of them; their teams now positioned behind them. Both teams fueled the crowds’ eagerness for the game (and for a fight) with their locked jaws and piercing stares at one another; the lights overhead shining just right on them in the darkened room as the floor underneath looked like fire underneath them.

 Dark crimson-red flames raged on the Gryffindors’ side while a bewitched emerald green danced calmly on the Slytherins’ side–the flames intertwining neatly where Harry and Draco stood.

The referee looked at both sides to make sure they were set correctly. She threw down the puck (the sound effect causing it to sound like a dropped brick) and looked at the captains, neither noticing for they were glaring at one another but the minute Madam Hooch’s shot up between them, the two shared a devious smile and the start of a fierce game had begun.


	11. [ 6 ] NOW OR NEVER

**THERE WAS BLOOD ON THE ICE, THERE WAS BLOOD ON HIS SHIRT, AND THERE WAS BLOOD IN HIS MOUTH.** Harry took a swig of water and swished it around before he spat it onto the ground; wiping his mouth. Glancing up at the scoreboard, he sighed. They were in their third period and both teams were tied, much to either’s dismay.

The game started out with a line brawl (which explained the dark claret stains on their uniforms) but in the last seconds of the game’s second period, another fight broke out between Harry and Draco; causing both captains to sit out for a bit while the co-captains took over. Besides that, the game was how everyone had hoped;

Intense and brutal.

Both teams were working their asses out on the rink, not just hitting their opponents but actually maneuvering their way throughout the group(s); bringing back (nearly impossible) moves that hadn’t been played since they’d been invented but neither wanted to go into overtime; which is why things had begun to get heated in their last frame. 

He looked over at Fred (who’d took one for the team by allowing his kneecap to get hammered in by one of the Slytherins, causing them to be put out of the game and for the Gryffindors to get a penalty shot) and put his helmet back on; knocking on the glass to catch Ron’s attention. He got the message as skated off; patting Harry on the back the minute he reached the bench–allowing him back into the game.

“With sixteen minutes left, both teams are tied. At this rate, they’ll be going into over–” Remus Lupin, one of the announcers paused, his eyes following a certain player, “What is that I see? Is it possible Gryffindor’s captain, Harry Potter, is back on the ice after suffering from an severe nosebleed?”

“Of course, Remmy, that boy’s one tough fellow. You’d have to drop a bag of brick on him to slow him down.” Sirius Black, the leading announcer spoke, catching Harry’s eye before winking; making the boy smile.

“Oh, it seems Slytherin’s captain, Draco Malfoy, has made a return as well.” Harry’s attention went over to the other team’s bench and watched as the blond came back out onto the ice; their eyes never leaving one another.

The game quickly resumed and Harry moved at a reasonable pace, being more careful of his apparently 'predictable’ movements (as Draco said earlier.) Everyone continued to work hard, not once letting their thoughts wonder off to anything not related to the game.

“You know, I used to be that agile. Age wasn’t on my side when it came to my body, but it sure worked with my looks.” Harry chuckled, continuing to listen to his god-father’s rant of his golden years back in school.

“Oh hush, Sirius. We’re supposed to be commenting about the game, not about your life story.” The crowd chuckled as Sirius grumbled, Remus throwing his best mate a smile before peering back outside the glass, resuming the game’s commentary; being quite fair in his descriptions (whereas, Sirius only bragged about the Gryffindors.)

“With only a minute left, the risks are high for both teams. Who will win, the Golden Gryffindors or the Sinious Slytherins?" 

_Only a minute left._

After the realization, time seemed to slow.

Harry still had the puck in his grasp yet, proceeded to look around himself; faintly hearing his teammates yelling,

_'Hit it, Harry!’_

_'What’re you waiting for?!’_

_'Do it now!’_

He then looked up at Draco (who was charging towards him); his eyes finally falling down at the puck; eyeing a free space below the Slytherin. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he felt his inner power beginning to surge throughout his body. With all his might, Harry spun around him and swung his stick with full force.

He heard the puck scream against the ice as it and drew in a sharp breath; hoping it made it.

He closed his eyes and felt the impact of his rival’s body crush his; feeling it when he landed on his back.

The buzzer blared,

the crowd cheered,

and the game was over.

(Or at least…that’s what everyone thought.)


	12. [ 7 ] A LEGENDARY [ LEGENDRARRY ] NIGHT

**WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A VICTORIOUS MOMENT FOR ONE OF THE TEAMS ENDED UP BEING ONE HUGE BALL OF CONFUSION.**  If one is still left wondering 'why’, well, that’s easy to answer; both captains were off in far right corner of the Gryffindors side–Harry on top of the other boy, choking him (in a rough manner, most onlookers would say.)

And with questions already flying left and right, plus the surprised looks from the people overhead of hockey, Neville took matters into his own hands, "Harry, get up off of him, it’s over!” He screamed as the others trailed after him, worried about their friend. 

The raven-haired boy was yanked back and Draco looked up, a smug look on his face as Harry continued to blush furiously (still unknown to his team, thankfully for him), “You  _interrupted_ something.”

“Yeah, I interrupted you from getting your arse kicked–I’ll take my 'thanks’ now.”

“No–” Draco sighed, and let out a little laugh; his thumb brushing over his bottom lip as he looked up at Harry, “You gonna explain it or you want me to?” (despite this being a subtle movement, a couple saw it but one knew exactly what it meant.)

Harry chuckled nervously and turned to face the group of raised eyebrows, “Draco and I were in fact, not fighting. It was a  _bit_ more intimate than that.” With them still not catching on, he went into more detail, “Uh…w-we’re together. Those texts I’d get in the middle of practice, those times were we all left and I wouldn’t say a word to anyone outside of school–not until we all came back the next day? That was him, it was always him.”

“B-but–what about that fight there at the pre-game practice? How do you explain that?”

“Sexual tension.”

“Everything that involves you two getting physical and bloody?”

“ _Absolute_ sexual tension.” Draco responded, shrugging, “We tried to distance ourselves before the game to get prepare for it. But it ended up failing when we basically made out on the ice after the match–what you’ve just witnessed.”

“Well uh…this is awkward.”

Harry shrugged, “More to you than us.”

 As questions kept continuing being asked, Draco separated himself from the convo as his eyes floated about the arena; landing on the scorebox up above. He looked at Harry and pointed up, “44-42?”

Harry cracked a grin that said it all, because what nobody had seen was when Harry went to take the shot, last minute, he passed it over to Ron whom actually shot the winning puck. Which gave more sense to their side of the crowd (currently) yelling out, 'Weasley Is Our King!' 

 When the shorter boy began snickering at his expression, Draco popped him on the arm; hissing out, “Ты немного дерьмо!" 

His boyfriend understood it and pointed at him, with a slight frown, "Listen here, I am  _not_  a little shit.” Harry struggled to continue his sentence with the smile twitching onto his face alongside the few laughs going around, “Afterall, my dear Slytherin, all is fair in love and hockey.”

The taller boy rolled his darkened grey eyes, “Не тогда, когда хоккейная клюшка засунула тебя–”

“I mean, it depends where it stuck me really.” The two stared at one another, pure silence surrounding them as the group(s) looked on with bewildered expressions, “I’m pretty cool with it, I just gotta know where it’s going.” Harry finished, shrugging at the end as if his words meant nothing.

Draco blinked a few times before throwing up his middle finger, glaring at him, “Пошел ты!”

Harry patted him on his shoulder, “Not here, Draco. We don’t want to be hit with another paper, complaining our of 'PDA.’”

“Is the conversation what I think it’s about?” Neville whispered behind Harry, looking between the two.

“Yep.”

Neville stepped back, not having want any part in it. 

However, Angelina stepped forward, “Wait, Harry, you can understand him? Not just a couple of words but like fully?”

Harry nodded, “Took up a bit of the Russian language because whenever I was around, he’d always be hissing or muttering something underneath his breath and I got tired of it so I researched it.” He looked over at him, smiling, “And now, he’s pissed because I can understand everything he’s saying, both in English and his first language.” In response, Draco rolled his eyes (yet again) and crossed his arms, not uttering another word.

That was before the ref ran over t Harry and asked him a questioned, he nodding in response; causing the ref to throw up a sign at the announcer box.

“And it’s official, the Golden Gryffindors have won the championship game with a clenching close score of forty-four next to forty-two! Let’s give 'em a round, folks!” Sirius cheered proudly, standing up; causing a similar act among the crowd as they began applauding.

They all looked around, seeing smiling faces looking down at them. They went by in a line and shook their opponents’ hands; praising them for their hard work in which they nodded in response.

When that was all done, the Gryffindors were called for a photo, but before it was taken, Harry skated over and whispered something into her ear; Madam Hooch nodded and shrugged, responding with, “Why not?”

He went back over and stood before the Slytherins, “C'mon guys, you’re gonna be in this too.” He gave a final smile before leaving; causing them to give one another a questioning look before ultimately following him.

“What’re they–” Ron began, but was soon cut off.

“They deserve it. I mean, they’ve worked their asses off just as hard as we have, and they’re not so bad as many seem. Plus, they’re always looked down on–I wanna change it. Even if it’s just for one night." 

And with that, The Gryffindors and Slytherins rounded together, no longer feeling tense around each other. The photographer, a younger teen by the name of Collin Creevey, stood before them; obviously starstruck.

"So you’ll be taking our picture?” Harry asked, smiling slightly.

“Y-yep,” He replied, beamed proudly before getting shy again; looking down, “I’m sorry if I come off as weird or strange, I just can’t believe my top two favorite hockey teams are standing before me.”

“You’re a fan of both of us?” Draco asked, surprised.

“Yeah.”

This caused both teams to look at each other, throwing out genuine smiles. They’d secretly had respect for opposite, but had never shown it until now. They intermingled, and posed against one another, the shot being taken mere seconds later.

And the next this picture would be seen would be in the local paper, underneath the caption,

_**'RIVAL TEAMS BOND AND BEFRIEND AT THE CHAMPIONSHIP AFTERMATH.’** _

_______

Some hours later, as they all sat in a pizza parlor downtown, chattering amongst each other, someone finally asked, 

“So, uh, exactly _how_  did you two end up together?”

All heads turned to face them and Harry slowed his eating due to the uncomfortableness; Draco taking a sip of soda before replying with, “I dunno, some things happened, we ended up fighting, and our lips met.”

“And from there?" 

"From there, we just started, you know, hanging out more and it all came together so rapidly–” Harry chuckled, thinking back to the beginning of it all, “–I, uh, really don’t know how to explain it.”

“So in an instant?”

“Yeah,” Harry looked over at Draco lovingly, the two sharing a small smile, “It all happened in an instant.”

**-fin**


	13. EPILOGUE | FOUR YEARS LATER

**[ EPILOGUE ]**

**FOUR YEARS LATER**

**______________**

━━  **THE SILVER TROPHY GLEAMED PROUDLY AND WINKED AT WHOEVER PASSED BY IT.** The stadium was packed; the tens of thousands of fans squeezing themselves into every available space there was. Conversations buzzed the atmosphere as the announcers at the booth up above tested out the mechanics and mics and went over their lines with one another. The cameras continued to flash and record, as coaches and officials continued to talk amongst each other.

The entire thing was being televised.

But it was no surprise, for this was the Stanley Cup of 2017;

the Chicago Blackhawks versus the Philadelphia Flyers.

Sprinkles of ice rose up in the air as Harry continued to skate around the rink, occasionally conversating and waving up at the bleachers as he caught some of the fans’ overhead words, and pointed out some pretty clever signs that caught his attention.

Now, at the age of twenty-two, he’d found himself as a member of the Chicago Blackhawks (all thanks to one of the official’s nieces dragging them to the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin championship game with their best friend back in his senior year.)  

Ever since then, his life took a drastic turn, but Harry wasn’t the only one who had gotten a streak of luck after graduation;

Hermione, with her brain now sharper than ever, found herself working amongst the Ministry; the secondary and (quite higher) government body up at the White House–alongside the titles of being an activist, a part-time librarian and social worker as well as wife to former Slytherin and current boxer, Pansy Parkinson.

Fred and George–now married men–went on to become famous comedians, while owning joke-shops scattered about part of the world, and even somehow managed to snag a TV of their own (which was doing quite well.)

Ginny went on to become an Olympic gymnast star, but with the birth of her son, and not wanting to risk anything harmful with the _current_ baby in her stomach, she took it easy on herself; switching it to become a coach for the time being.

Ron went on to become a movie director; infamous for his guitar skills, and being one of the funniest interviewees that the world has ever known.

And as for Neville? Well, he went on to become a magazine model–that was before the arrival of his triplets; he was now a poet–gardening in his free time, and occasionally coaching the local hockey teams.

So yeah, you could say life worked out for them.

Approaching the next turn, Harry began to slow his speed down, but in that exact moment, he was stopped by a fellow teammate. Zacharis Devont, was his name.  ( And in ways, he reminded Harry of Neville; with the same streak of yellow down his dark hair and a piercing and was just as aggressive. )

And while the two would usually joke around (both on and off the rink), today, he asked Harry a question that threw him completely off his tracks,

“Say, Malfoy’s your boyfriend, right?”

And while it was true, Draco  _was_ Harry’s boyfriend–well, actually his fiance– the green-eyed fellow was confused as to why he’d be questioned of this; everyone from the coach(es) to the public  _knew_  of the duo.

“Uh, yeah.” He nodded, “We’re together.”

“But he’s on the Pittsburgh Penguins, yeah?”

Harry blinked, “..Right.”

“Well, uh–” Zacharias put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, a few other teammates sliding in to see what was up, “Don’t look now, but there’s a guy over there who looks eerily–and I mean eerily– similar to him, right over there.” His teammate pointed his finger towards his left, down at the other side of the rink; just barely able to his smile.

“Over where–?” Harry whipped his head to the side, and his eyes landed on a certain part of the rink. It was the seventh numbered player of the orange, black, and white team; the Philadelphia Flyers.

“Is that…?” He peered harder, and soon, leaned back with a small shaking of his head; a small smile forming soon after, “Ah, no _fuckin’_ way!”

“Hey man, are you okay?”

“Oh, that little blond  _bastard_ …” Harry muttered to himself, the smile and tone of his voice going completely against his words. He turned back, quickly throwing a nod over to the other side of the rink to signal where his interest(s) were caught into, and departed from his (onlooking and knowing) teammates.

Harry made his way over, constantly switching back and forth between a smile and a glare; his breathing becoming slightly unsteady as he gathered his words; stilling himself as he appeared behind the extremely tall (and quite attractive) twenty-two-year-old blond man before him,

“Malfoy.” He greeted in low voice, leveling his eyes to where they would most likely meet as; his hands behind his back as he waited.

The minute he spoke, turned around, “Potter.”

It was an instinct of theirs; hearing one another’s last name and responding back in the same manner like they did in high school. (Which, unfortunately, had their teammates almost all too excited to take part in their game.)

But it was funny; he’d been caught off guard–from having his previous conversation, of course–but once he put voice to face to name, his eyes flew down to the slightly younger man, eyeing him before letting out a small laugh.

“Idiot.” He threw a glance back before moving closer, “What’re you doing here?”

“About to play the Championship,  _duh._ ”

Draco cocked his head to the side, “I thought we left your sass back in your junior year, Potter.”

“And I thought we left your _bullshit_  back at the house but it seems to have followed, Malfoy.” Harry retorted and crossed his arms, cocking his head to the side as he raised a brow; wearing a proud smirk.

Draco chuckled, smiling a bit, “I’ve seemed to have grown on you a bit.”

Harry shrugged, “Well, after a few years of being together,  _something_  has to happen.” He replied back, causing the two to laugh, “Plus, sass in my personality, I can’t help it. But being with you made it worse and more cruel so yeah, you’re like the _worst_ influence on me.”

“Thank you, that means  _so_  much to hear.” Draco replied back in the same tone, giving an eye roll before taking down his man bun to add in the stray strand that fell out, “So why are you really over here?” He asked, looking down.

“To wish you luck?” Harry tried, giving a small smile.

“Wrong answer, try again.” He told him, finishing up on his hair.

Harry rolled his eyes, “Okay fine.” He sighed, “ I came to ask you exactly _why_ , and _what_  you’re doing here.”

“Just as you, Potter; to play the Championship.” He paused, giving a small chuckle, “Why the look of surprise, dear?” He held the side of his face, almost in a mocking manner, “You _didn’t_ know I got transferred over to the Flyers?” He questioned, a smirk now tugging at his lips.

“No-” Harry shoved his hand away, “I didn’t know. Because you never _told_  me.”

“Actually, I did, but with all the  _noise_  you were making last night, it was no wonder you couldn’t hear me–”

“–You know, I  _was_ gonna take it easy on you but I change my mind.” Harry snapped, taking a step forward.

“Oh, you were gonna take it  _easy_ on me?” Draco questioned, also taking a step forward; sending a smug smile down at his boyfriend.

“Yeah, but I change my mind.” He rolled his eyes, “And _of course_ , it was for pity. Didn’t wanna make you seem so.. _.weak_  in front of your new teammates.” Harry shrugged, “ But I guess they can learn the hard way, go ahead and get rid of the deadweight while they  _can._ ”

“Funny you say that considering it was I who even got you into this sport in this first place.”

“You were the one who introduced me to it…” Harry tilted his head to the side innocently,  crossing his arms over his chest, “So sad to know I’ve surpassed you in skills. And that I’m going to kick your ass, _again,_ in another major game.”

“Oh,” Draco raised his brow, and lifted a hand to hold the side of Harry’s face,  "You’re so _cute._ “

Harry held placed his hand atop of his, giving a sickeningly sweet smile as he squinted up at him in anger, "If you think I’m cute now, just wait until after the game. When I’m all  _sweaty_  and _hot_ and  _agitated.”_ Right after the words left his mouth, Harry was quick to notice the change in Draco’s expression, “You like that, don’t you?” He asked as he pulled him closer by his shirt, smirking up at him.

“Keep on teasing me like that, Potter, and we’ll have to call out on the game.” Draco muttered under his breath as his hands met Harry’s waist, leaning down to give a nibble on his sensitive left ear in secret.

Harry let out a shaky sigh, “I’m sure the audience won’t mind another…incident out on the rink; if you get what I mean.”

Draco heard himself laugh, “Thinking back on our Hogwarts days, aren’t you, Potter?”

“You mean the best time of my life? Then yeah.”

“Aw..” Draco moved back, “Well, get your shit together because the game starts in five.” He smiled as he gave punch to Harry’s arm (in, of course, a playful manner), “I see our coaches motioning us over.”

“ 'Suppose there’s nothing much you can do after once the coach calls you over, right?”  Harry asked with a laugh as he began skating off.

“Wait, hey!” He stopped and turned around, “We never decided.”

“Never decided on what?”

“The outcome, of course.” Draco thought over it for a second, “Hm, say winner tops and loser bottoms?”

“So in other words, you bottom and I top?” Harry questioned with gestures, confident in his side.

“No, like I said ;  winner tops and loser bottoms.” He shrugged, “ You never know how this could end this time. The first time, I let you win because a) I was distracted and b) you seemed like you needed the win.”

Harry began to laugh, as he began to skate back, “Oh, bullshit, Malfoy, and you know it!”

The two shared a laugh before a minute neared, and Harry really had to go. He opted for holding out his hand instead of risking them getting called out for PDA,  "Good luck, alright?“

"You expect me to say that back?” Draco questioned, though grabbed his hand back.

“Well, it wouldn’t be very good sportsmanship if you didn’t.”

Draco shrugged, letting go of his hand, “Who cares?” Harry watched as he went back over to his team, sending a signal for him to do the same. Harry sighed and joined the skate around before they all lined up, but as he caught Draco’s eye from the group before him, he couldn’t help but to shake his head and smile.

( Guess some things never change. )

**━ off./ fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> [ OTHER INFO ]
> 
> \+ DRACO is of Russian descent in this story so whenever drawls (speaks), he'll have like a Romanian accent. Plus, I honestly think this attribute really fits his character and all that he does (or shall do.)
> 
> ____________
> 
> \+ SIRIUS AND REMUS are the commenters 
> 
> \+ ENVISION THIS whole thing as a game of Rangers vs. Devils (fierce and intense) but their rivalry runs as deep and as long as the Rangers vs. Islanders (they've had a rivalry for nearly 5 decades, just so ya know)
> 
> ___________
> 
> \+ HARRY AND NEVILLE are pretty close in friendship. Like, they aren't best friends but have a pretty close-brother like bond and they can pretty much hit each other up with anything (but it's on the low-low so whatever)
> 
> ____________
> 
> \+ I HAVE THIS CONCEPT THAT everyone in the story is tall; (from shortest to tallest)
> 
> \- 5'11; Hermione // 6'0; Ginny // 6'1; Harry // 6'2; Ron, Neville and Dean // 6'3; Draco // 6'4; basically the rest of the Slytherins // (and this ends with the Weasley twins being damn near 7'0)
> 
> ______________
> 
> \+ I ALSO HAVE THIS OTHER CONCEPT that they have piercings;
> 
> \- Sectum piercings; Ron, Neville and Blaise // Cheek (or dimple); Ginny // Triple piercing hoops w/ a single stud above eyebrow; Hermione // Anti eyebrow; Pansy // Eyebrow and lip; Harry // Snake bite; Draco
> 
> ____________
> 
> I REALIZED A WHILE BACK THAT that Hockey and Quidditch are pretty damn similar position-wise so this is how they'll be placed; 
> 
> Harry and Draco (Captain/Center) // Fred & George; Millicent and Goyle (Defensemen/Beaters) // Ginny and Neville; Daphne and Theodore (L&R Wingers/Chasers) // Hermione / Pansy (Goalies) + Ron and Blaise as Co-Captains
> 
> ___________
> 
> \- THEY'RE IN THEIR senior year so everything really does count for them; is much more important than any other game they've ever had.
> 
> ___________
> 
> -THIS IS ICE HOCKEY, not field hockey; not street hockey.
> 
> _________
> 
> \+ IN THIS STORY, Harry, Hermione, and Pansy are POC (People of Color.) + the canon POC, Blaise.
> 
> _____________
> 
> [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ]
> 
> \- I worked extremely hard on this, and I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)
> 
> -Teia


End file.
